


even apart i'll still love you the same

by RippingOffZeppelin



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, POV Steve Rogers, im still emo rip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 00:23:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15376647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RippingOffZeppelin/pseuds/RippingOffZeppelin
Summary: He’s been waiting for Tony to call.





	even apart i'll still love you the same

**Author's Note:**

> title from different lines of ‘Pristine’ by Snail Mail
> 
> “ We can be anything, //even apart//,   
> out of everything it doesn’t have to be this hard  
> I could be anyone, but i’m so entwined   
> and out of everyone who’s on your mind?  
> No more changes, //i’ll still love you the same// ”

 

It’s been close to two years without contact. Most of them try not to think about it, about why they’re living out of motel rooms, changing location every few days, about his beard or Nat’s new hair or the fact that Sam wears sunglasses more often than not, about all the ways they try and hide themselves.

His previous time as a fugitive, running from the government, was short lived but it’s made this a little easier to swallow in a way, like he can handle the sting of it now, the distrust and contempt that lingers where there used to be something of an agreement, an understanding, not just a need but a want for heroes, for the hope they bring. Now the suit, the stars and stripes, the name alone wouldn’t bring much of anything other than police sirens, another arrest.

 

It’s been close to two years since he last saw Tony. Not that the last time he saw him was any better than this, their last words to each other still echo in his ears, the metal clang of his shield hitting the ground his final goodbye until he sent the letter. He didn’t really expect anything back, not exactly sure where they stand now, but he’d hoped for _something_ when he sent the package, the phone. Even anger; another fight, a message telling him to fuck off or maybe just _‘a flip phone Steve? really? what century are we in”._ He’s had a lot of time for wishful thinking.

Tony hasn’t called though.

To be fair Steve hasn’t either but he doesn’t know how to go about making that call, if it’d be appreciated if it’d even be answered. Maybe Tony’s thinking the same, maybe he won’t call until he absolutely has to, maybe the next time Steve’ll hear his voice is in another life or death scenario, he promised he’d be there, and it’s a promise he plans on keeping. He turns his old flip phone, an exact match to the one he sent Tony, over in his hands, it spends most of it’s time rotating between burning a hole in his pocket and being fussed with. Open and shut, open and shut, open and shut until he almost gives in; he never quite makes it to the contacts though. The thing just stays charged and on, close to him at all times, it has five numbers and not much else but it’s the most valuable thing he owns.

 

Sam tried talking to him about it, says it’s good to talk, that it helps you cope, but Steve doesn’t know what to say, feels like there’s nothing to say, not about this, not to anyone that isn’t Tony. They fought, he chose and he left. He went on the run and sent Tony some kind of olive branch, some kind of broken, half formed apology he knows is reciprocated even in this dead space that now stretches between them. Natasha tried after Sam, in her own way, all conversations like this are very roundabout with her, you have to read between the lines to get it; she was maybe a little easier to talk to because of that, because he didn’t actually have to say any of it out loud, got to hide it in subtext. That of course it’s hard, all of it, for all of them, that the Avengers were so hard won that of course they would be hard lost too, of course it was that big of a blow up and this much of a fallout. That at the base of it, of the way life is now, that stripped back of every tangled up feeling he has he really just _misses him_. Misses Tony. He’s the kind of person you get used to having around and there was always this tension, this buzz of something between them and now all of that energy is stagnant and Steve is just trying to deal with it.

She gets it, they both do really, they get it enough that Steve doesn’t have to explain it, and it’s nice in a way, and it does help.

 

It’s been another three days in a different roadside motel just outside of a city he can’t really remember the name of which means it’s time to move again. They have breakfast before sunrise in a run down diner where the waitress and the handful of customers occupying the place don’t say anything about Natasha’s hat or Sam’s sunglasses or the hoodie Steve won’t pull down, these places are friends to them, no one cares here, they’re all running from something.

Natasha’s an old hand at hiding in plain sight and watching over her shoulder, they’ve followed her lead on how to act through all this, but Sam’s been great to have around, he adds a little bit of normalcy to the whole thing, as much as can be added under the circumstances. Orders a lot of food and acts like they’re just on some kind of road trip; it’s pretty good hiding too. He has a way of keeping them all sane, making them forget that they automatically scope out every place they enter, counting the exits, the people. ‘Army humour’ he always says, ‘Gotta keep grinning even when you probably shouldn’t, keeps your head straight’ he’s right of course, Steve gets it, seems like Natasha does too.

The sun’s up by the time they’ve headed back to check out of their motel, Natasha and Sam making sweeps of the rooms as Steve goes to pay, places like this taking cash and not looking too hard at who’s handing it over are another kind of friend. Steve nods in thanks to the owner, still wary about trusting his voice not to get recognised, figures it’d be more identifiable than his face more often than not. Captain America reels still get played even while the governments out looking for him.

 

They’re ready to move out when it happens. Sam’s loading the last bag into the car, Natasha’s leaning against it, drinking the rest of the shitty to go coffee they took on their way out, eyes flicking back and forth, always on alert even at 6am in a deserted parking lot; maybe especially then. It’s the same kind of morning as always when his phone rings.

He feels the buzz before the ringtone even starts and it’s out of his pocket in an instant. He knows Natasha and Sam can hear it, even with half a parking lots distance between them, but he doesn’t look up, refuses to see their reactions, eyes glued to the phone screen because only five people have this number, two of them are with him and two of them call Nat to check in not him.

His phone rings, rings, rings, and it’s really actually Tony’s name flashing on the screen. Steve never got around to setting a photo to the contact, didn’t really see the point, but the names there, pixels blurring the longer he stares. It’s been so long since he’s even heard Tony’s _voice_.

“Hi” he says, gripping the phone tight, heart in his throat, pounding in his ears, ready for a conversation he’s been waiting two years to have-

“Steve? it’s Bruce we have a situation”

 

.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> im still not over the fact that steve sent tony the phone and that bruce is the one to call


End file.
